Needle in the Haystack
by JamesLuver
Summary: Cobert Smut Exchange. The perfect Valentine's Day veers off course when Robert and Cora end up stranded in a barn in the middle of the countryside…


**A/N:** Here we are, my effort for the Cobert Smut Exchange! I had terrific fun writing this. Thanks to **GranthamGal**, **krisnreine** and **Shellz Kiwi** for creating the event, and an even bigger thanks to **GranthamGal** for inviting me to join in. :D

My prompt was as follows: "On their way to a romantic dinner, Robert and Cora's car breaks down and they have to spend Valentine's Day in someone's barn. Muddy, wet and angry." Not sure how muddy, wet and angry they are, but I tried. :P

**Disclaimer:** I own _nada_.

* * *

_Needle in the Haystack_

Robert sighed as he paced the great hall, surreptitiously glancing at his pocket watch as he did so. The time was creeping steadily closer to half past eight. He and Cora should have set off to York at eight. Their reservation at York's newest restaurant had been made for half past nine. They would be lucky to make it at all at this rate. Just what was Cora _doing_? He was tempted to go up and check on her, but he remembered the last time that he'd tried that, and deflated at once. Five minutes before they'd been due to set off, Robert had gone upstairs to see if she was coming, only to be met at the door to his wife's bedroom by an irate looking O'Brien. The expression on her face and the barely supressed bark in her voice had been enough to send him scurrying back downstairs with his tail between his legs. If there was something that could make Robert Crawley quail, it was O'Brien in a bad mood. She was potentially even more intimidating than his wife in a bad mood, simply because she was more unpredictable and was known to have a nasty temper. Of course, she could never be rude to him because he was her employer and she wasn't a stupid woman, but that didn't change the facts. He'd never forget Bates telling him the true story about what had transpired between Thomas and Jimmy, only to find that it was all being orchestrated by O'Brien. If Cora didn't like her so much, and if she didn't treat his wife so well, then he would have gotten rid of her a long time ago.

As it was, she was here to stay. And while his wife was currently sitting upstairs, he didn't quite dare to approach her. Besides, O'Brien's warning was still ringing in his head.

_Her ladyship doesn't want you to see her before she's ready to go, milord._

So that was why he was pacing the hallway alone, wishing fervently that she would hurry up. The day had started off perfectly, and he didn't want it to end on a sour note.

He'd woken that morning to find Cora sprawled on her stomach, nestled against his arm. It had been earlier than he'd been used to rising – barely after seven – and the first rays of light had just begun to peep in through the gap in the curtains. They had highlighted her face – the paleness of her cheeks, the stark contrast of her lashes against her skin – and his heart had swelled with love. The war and the intervening years might have aged them both – neither of them could deny the added lines and the first grey hairs – but in that instant, Robert hadn't been able to remember a time when she had looked so young. The sight had been a breath-taking one, and he'd been unable to resist, shifting against her, wrapping her up in his arms, pressing breathless kisses against her eyelids and her cheeks and her mouth until she'd groaned and shifted against him.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love," he'd whispered into her ear, letting his hand drift languidly down her back.

She'd echoed the words, sounding perkier at once – Valentine's Day had always been one of her favourite days of the year – and they had made wonderful use of their early morning time, her legs wrapped around his torso, enveloping him in her warmth, stifling groans against each other's necks.

The day had only gotten better from there. They had exchanged gifts in the aftermath of their exertions, swathed only in tangled bed sheets, and it had been such a wondrous delight to see the joy on Cora's face as she'd unwrapped her present – a nice set of perfume. She herself had bought Robert a handsome new pocket watch, and the inscription on it had made him want to tear up. They had had a wonderful day taking a stroll around the grounds and sitting quietly together in the library. And when Robert had announced his intentions of taking her out to dinner, Cora's face had been a picture. It had been a long time since they had enjoyed a meal on their own away from the house. In fact – and Robert shuddered at the fact – they hadn't been out to a nice restaurant alone since before the war. When it had finished, there had always been too much to do, with the soldiers still being there and then the Spanish flu epidemic. After that, they had been too busy coming to terms with the changes to their lifestyles and the loss of their beautiful Sybil to contemplate the luxury of dinner alone. But after the summer spent in Scotland and the horror of losing Matthew too, Robert had been determined to make more of an effort to let Cora know how much he truly appreciated her. And Valentine's Day was the perfect opportunity for that.

Now, however, his plans for a romantic dinner were quickly deteriorating into dust.

He sighed again, and turned to pace back down the hallway. He couldn't be annoyed with her, not really, but he really could not understand why she was taking so long. He did not pretend to be an expert in lady's fashion, but Cora always looked beautiful no matter what she wore. Why did she insist on endangering their plans when she'd be the most beautiful woman in the restaurant without even trying?

He paced a few more times, and was just at the point of mustering more courage when he heard a sound on the stairs. Turning, he couldn't stop his jaw from dropping. It was a terribly uncultured look for an earl, but he swore the moment merited it anyway.

Cora was walking down the stairs towards him, back straight, smile bright, eyes dancing. The dress that she was wearing was unlike anything that he had ever seen before. Midnight blue and satin, it swished gently against the floor. Her favourite diamond piece, a lavish present from Robert on her thirtieth birthday, was sitting regally around her neck. Her hair was set in some sort of beautifully complicated twist, and Robert wondered half-incoherently how long it would take for that to be unwound.

"How do I look, Robert?" she teased when she came to a stop at the bottom of the grand staircase, and he had to try very hard not to sweep her up in his arms and escort her back to her bedroom.

"Stunning," he told her softly, coming forward to peck her cheek. The delicate scent of winter flowers wafted into his senses and made him feel dizzy.

She grinned mischievously, noticing his reaction. "I thought I'd try my new bottle of scent tonight. What do you think of it? It's not too overpowering, is it?"

It _was_ overpowering, but not in an unpleasant way. It was overpowering in the way that Cora always was, a subtle elegance that never failed to get right under his very skin and drive him wild.

"No, it's perfect," he murmured, letting his hand travel along the length of her uncovered arm. He was pleased to note the goosebumps that pimpled there as his fingertips drifted across her skin, feather-light. Cora's eyes were darkening already. He loved that look…

"Milord?"

It was Carson's booming voice which broke the spell which had been cast over the earl and the countess. They snapped apart at once, Robert clearing his throat and hoping that his face expression wasn't too open.

"Yes?" he said. "What's wrong, Carson?"

"Pratt is ready to take you to York in the car," the butler informed him.

They were more than half an hour late now, but never mind. "Thank you, Carson. We'll be on our way at once."

Cora slipped her hand snugly into the crook of his arm as they moved from the abbey outside to the waiting car. Pratt looked more than a little frozen as he opened the doors and stammered greetings at them through chattering teeth, and Robert felt a little shamefaced about that. The poor man must have been sitting in the car for almost an hour with nothing to keep him warm. Still, the guilt was chased away when Cora's hand returned immediately to his in the back of the motor.

* * *

They sat like that for some time, simply holding hands, while they trundled gently down the winding country roads. But Robert was conscious of the time passing them by, and when he dared to glance at his pocket watch, he saw that their time was slipping by very quickly indeed.

"I think you might have to step on it, Pratt," he called.

Pratt looked nervous as he glanced over his shoulder. "I'm not sure how possible that will be, milord."

"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning. "You really must, otherwise we'll be terribly late."

"That's just the thing, milord," said Pratt. "The motor has been acting strangely for the last few days. I'm cautious about making it do more than it wants to."

"Pratt, it's a car. It's not human, it's not telling you anything."

"Pratt obviously knows more about these things that we do, Robert," interrupted Cora. "I think it would be advisable to listen to him."

"My dear," said Robert, "we're going to be late if we carry on at this pace. "I think I'm right in saying that we need to move faster, otherwise we'll miss our reservation. In any case, Pratt, why on earth did you bring this car out if you thought that there might be something wrong with it? Why not use the other car?"

"The other car is being replaced, milord." Pratt's tone of voice suggested that he clearly had no idea whether his lordship was being difficult on purpose or not. "So we're having to make do with this one until the new one is brought to us."

When had _that_ been decided? Robert turned to his wife. "Did you know about this?"

Cora shrugged helplessly. "Mary insisted on allowing it. Apparently it had been on Matthew's list of things that needed to be done."

At the mention of Matthew, a wave of overwhelming grief hit him. He doubted that it would ever get any easier. Losing Matthew had hurt almost as much as losing their darling Sybil, and Mary's grief had been impossible to bear. Still, he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and was relieved that when he spoke, his voice was steady. "So both you and Mary knew about this and neither of you chose to ask me, or at least _tell_ me?"

Cora's sigh was exasperated. "Robert, you're being silly. Mary didn't go behind your back on this, she merely didn't want to add to your burden when you were so busy with Tom's plans for the estate."

"I would have had time," Robert said stubbornly. Cora retracted her hand from his, and even in the darkness, he could tell that she was rolling her eyes. He knew that she always got frustrated when he started acting petulant about the estate, and even though it didn't happen much anymore, he could still admit that it was _frustrating_ to see his power as Earl of Grantham diminishing. It had always been his duty to save the estate, and while he most certainly could hold his hands up and admit that he had made several terrible decisions over his lifetime, he didn't think that, all in all, he'd done a bad job. And now that Matthew was gone (he swallowed hard again), it would be years before their grandson would be old enough to shoulder the responsibility and learn about running an estate. While he still could, Robert wanted to be as involved as possible, even if it was just in something as trivial as commissioning a new car.

Pratt was eyeing them nervously, evidently hoping that he wasn't going to be witnessing a full-blown marital argument. Robert bit his tongue. He didn't want to embarrass any of them. But he would have one thing his way.

"Pratt, I want you to go as fast as you think you can," he said. "Our reservation is for nine thirty and we're going to miss it. I don't want that to happen."

"But milord –"

"Robert –"

Robert frowned stubbornly. "Cora, if we're late, then it will be all your fault."

"That's hardly fair!" she protested, but her husband had already turned back to the chauffeur who, taking one last look at his face, heaved as exasperated a sigh as he dare and slowly began to increase the pressure of his foot on the accelerator.

Robert sat back in his seat, pleased with himself. He turned to look at his wife again, but she twisted pointedly to look out of the window, watching the scenery flash by. So, she was giving him the cold shoulder. Robert wasn't too worried. Cora's cold shoulders never lasted very long unless she was in a particularly foul mood, and with the surprise that he had in store for her, he doubted that she'd be able to stay mad at him for very long.

* * *

The landscape passed quickly. The engine groaned. Even to his unknowledgeable ears, it didn't sound healthy. But Robert wasn't worried. They would soon be leaving the countryside behind, and then York would begin to trundle into view. At this rate, Robert was fairly certain that they might not be more than a few minutes late.

And then two things happened in quick succession which proved Robert wrong beyond a shadow of a doubt.

First, it began to rain. The drops started off as small and fairly unobtrusive, but after barely two minutes, they began to fall harder. They made a tinny sound against the motor, and Pratt began mumbling under his breath as he attempted to get the windscreen wipers to work. They made a strange grating sound when he tugged on the lever, but nothing happened.

"Milord," he shouted after a few futile tugs, "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to slow down."

"What?" said Robert. "Why?"

"I should have thought that that was obvious," said Cora acidly, shooting him a look that clearly stated that he wasn't forgiven yet. "Pratt can't see to drive."

"Her ladyship is right," Pratt agreed. "I'm terribly sorry, milord, but I think it's for the best. It'll give the engine a bit of a break too."

"Nonsense," declared Robert. "You're going to have to keep going at this pace, otherwise it'll take us until closing time to reach York."

"Robert, please tell me you aren't serious," hissed Cora. "How can you possibly want Pratt to keep going at this ridiculous speed when he can't see? Do you want to tempt fate with another car accident?"

Robert shuddered at the thought. That was the last thing he wanted. There was no need to put their lives in unnecessary danger in such adverse conditions…

…But they were going to be late.

"Can't you carry on for just a few minutes more?" he offered lamely in compromise. He heard Cora's huff of vexation at his words.

Pratt was shaking his head. "I'm really not sure that it's possible, milord –"

He was interrupted then by a dreadful jarring noise. The car juddered and lurched horribly to the side. Cora was unable to prevent a shriek from escaping from her throat. Robert thought he heard a nasty bang as her head hit the side of the car, and he winced in sympathy. He himself had had a much softer landing against his wife's arm. Pratt swerved the wheel and the car made a sound that was almost like a screech as it jolted to a stop.

Cora mumbled something that sounded oddly insulting as she struggled back upright again. "Pratt, what on earth was that!?"

"I'm not sure, milady," he replied sheepishly. "But I think the car has finally decided that it's had enough."

"What, what do you mean?" she cried.

"Surely something can be done?" asked Robert.

"I don't know," said Pratt. "I'll go and see if I can work out the problem. I'll be as quick as I can, milord."

"Yes, yes," said Robert. "I'm sorry, Pratt. This is my fault."

"Not at all, milord," he said.

"Well, _I'm_ blaming you," Cora said at once as soon as the chauffeur had wriggled out of the car. "What were you hoping to prove by carrying on at that speed?"

"I was hoping to achieve a nice meal with my wife on Valentine's Day," Robert retorted sullenly. "A meal that we needn't have rushed for if _someone_ didn't have terrible timekeeping skills –"

There was a bang outside the car, and the two of them jumped.

"That didn't sound good," Cora huffed. "So what happens now?"

"Pratt will fix it," Robert said with more confidence than he actually felt. "He tinkles with cars for a living."

Several minutes later, the car door flew open again. Pratt stuck his head inside the car. Rain poured from his hat, down his face. He was quite clearly soaked to the bone.

"I'm sorry, milord," he said, biting his lip. "But I'm afraid that I can't fix the problem. We'd need a proper mechanic with the right tools with him for that."

"So what does that mean?" asked Cora.

Pratt sighed. "I'll need to walk into the next village to see if there's a mechanic living there who might be able to help."

"What?" said Cora. "And how far is that?"

Pratt shrugged helplessly. "A few miles. It'll be a little slow going because of the rain, but there's not a lot that can be done about that."

"And what are we supposed to do in the meantime?"

Pratt shrugged again. "We're near a farm, milady, though it doesn't look like anyone is living here. I suppose you could take shelter in the barn for a while until I get back. Otherwise the only other option is coming along with me and finding somewhere to stay until the car can be fixed. I can come and pick you up again then. Or you can just wait here in the car, but that might not be very comfortable."

"But what about the _meal_?" moaned Robert.

Cora fixed him with a lethal stare that had him wilting at once. "Robert, forget about the meal. We're not going to make it, whether you like it or not."

"So what are you going to do, milady?" asked Pratt. "The sooner I can set off, the sooner this will be sorted out."

"Then I suppose the barn is the only option that we can take," she sighed. "It's far from ideal, but at least we'll have some shelter, and it will be bigger than this motor. It's not fair to come with you and then make you come back for us when the problem is fixed. We'll wait here for you."

"Very well, milady," said Pratt. "The barn isn't very far away. I'll set off now, if that's all right."

"Perfectly."

The chauffeur withdrew then, and Robert and Cora were left alone.

"I don't think a barn is very suitable," said Robert.

Cora rolled her eyes. "Stop acting like a child. It will be better than this car."

"But we'll get wet."

"It's just a bit of water. We'll dry off."

Robert huffed, but decided not to argue with her as she opened the car door and slipped out.

He followed her with a grumble, tumbling out of the car and onto the side of the road. The rain was falling hard and fast, and he was drenched within a matter of moments. Cursing, he shook the rain from his face and peered into the darkness. Cora was already leaving his side, picking her way towards a disappointingly derelict building about forty feet away.

"Cora, where are you going?" he shouted after her.

"Isn't it obvious?" she shouted back. "I already told you and Pratt in the car. Or weren't you listening to me then?"

Robert cursed and set off after her, slipping in the mud and sending specks of it flying everywhere. He saw Cora stumble a few feet ahead of him, and he heard her curse herself as she continued forward. The rain seemed to be growing heavier by the second. He was beginning to shiver in the chill, his arms pinwheeling as he almost lost his balance again.

At last he reached the door of the old barn. Cora had already disappeared inside, not bothering to wait for him. Robert followed her, and couldn't help but sigh at their surroundings. It was dark inside, and he couldn't make out much, the fusty smell of damp strong and overbearing. A few old, broken pieces of machinery littered the place. There were several divides throughout it, spaces where horses had presumably been kept in the past. And there were copious amounts of old straw. It crunched under his feet as he ventured further inside. It was a far cry from the beauty of Downton.

"I think I would have preferred the car to here," he said. His voice echoed in the black space.

"You're very welcome to go back." Cora's tone was still confrontational. "Since you always seem to know best, then you should have followed your instinct."

"And leave you alone in here? I couldn't have done that."

"Why not? There's no one else here. Unless you're afraid I'll get prepositioned by a ghost."

"That's not funny."

He couldn't see her expression, but he knew she was rolling her eyes at him. Silence lingered for a moment as each of them moved tentatively around their new surroundings.

"I wish you'd been sensible enough to take Pratt's advice," Cora said at length. "If we'd gone slower in the motor, none of this would have happened."

"That's not fair," Robert retorted. "You heard Pratt. The motor had been playing up. It would have happened anyway."

"Yes, _after_ he'd gotten us back home safely after a nice meal!"

"I refuse to be blamed for this. In fact, it's _your _fault."

Cora scoffed. "And how can you possibly draw that conclusion? _I_ wasn't the one insisting I was right in the car!"

"No, but you _were_ the one who spent a ridiculous amount of time getting ready! If you'd been ready for the time that we agreed, then I wouldn't have felt the need to push Pratt so hard!"

Cora's cheeks had flushed with anger as she rounded on her husband, stalking a few paces closer to him. "So you'd have preferred it if I hadn't made an effort to look nice for my husband?"

"I would have preferred it if it hadn't led to this disaster!"

"Well, I'll know not to bother for future reference," she snapped. Rain dripped down the side of her face.

"Who says there will be a next time?" Robert retorted irritably. "After this disaster, I don't feel like I can face another trip out again."

"That's fine with me," she snapped. "Because I don't want to go through this again either!"

They were standing close to each other now, glaring hard, rain landing with a _pitter_ sound on the dry, rough straw. Robert's hat was skewered, and mud flecked the side of Cora's face. They were both soaking and shivering violently, the cool February air made worse by the intensity of the rain. Still, Robert could feel the blood in his veins boiling. He'd tried hard with Cora lately, mindful of the fact that he had been an awful prig with her at various times over the last few years, but ever since he had seen Susan and Shrimpie together, he had been fully aware of how wonderful his life with Cora really was, and how he should be so much more grateful for the way that she had stood firm by his side through everything, even the more heart-wrenching times. He had vowed to never take her for granted again. But there were time that he still struggled to balance the things that had happened in his life – his beautiful daughter's death, Matthew's fatal accident, the shift in power on the estate – and he wished that sometimes Cora was more understanding. It was different for her. She had adapted well to the turmoil of the war and its aftermath, but he had not. Sometimes he needed a little understanding when he floundered helplessly.

Still, there was something about seeing Cora like that, cheeks high in colour and eyes like chips of ice. He adored her fire and her passion and her American blood, even if it did frustrate him to no end sometimes.

He couldn't resist shooting a hand out to grasp her wrist roughly. She yelped a little in surprise, but narrowed her eyes at him. "Robert, what are you doing?"

He didn't answer her with words. Instead, he held her gaze heatedly for a few heartbeats longer before crashing his mouth against her own.

Her reaction was instantaneous, her lips moving feverishly against his as her hands came up to grasp at his shoulders. Perhaps she was holding on a little harder than was necessary – he winced as her fingernails dug rather viciously into his skin – but he couldn't help but grunt his approval. She opened her mouth to accommodate his tongue, shivering as it slid passed her teeth. His hands were hot on her despite their chill, and she blindly reached up to run her hands through his hair. His hat landed amid the straw, lying there in defeat as Cora began to attack his locks with relish.

At last they broke apart, panting for breath. Robert was pleased to see that Cora's lips were red and slightly swollen from the intensity of their kiss. He took a deep drag of air, then moved to kiss her again. She pressed her palms against his chest to keep him at bay.

"I'm still angry at you, Robert," she said.

"I know," he murmured, moving closer, fingers pinching her sides. "I'm still angry with you, too."

She was unable to resist taking his lip between her teeth, biting it harder than was strictly necessary. "I've not forgiven you for blaming me when all of this is your fault."

"And I've still not forgiven you for blaming _me_ when none of this would have happened if we'd set off on time," he growled.

No more words were spoken as their mouths clashed again, teeth scraping and tongues duelling for control. Robert could feel his arousal growing at the sight of his wife so flushed and riled, and the glow in her eyes told him that she felt the same. Each battled for dominance in the kiss as they clawed at the other's body. Robert felt his dinner jacket being pulled roughly from his shoulders as they kissed, and he reluctantly let go of Cora long enough to allow it to fall. For a brief moment, he lamented the fact that it had ended up on the grotty barn floor – it was his favourite, after all – but that soon ceased to matter as Cora's lips smothered his own once again, seemingly intent on making him run out of air. Her hands returned to his shoulders, her fingers sliding underneath the line of his braces teasingly, and he made a choking sound in the back of his throat as she ripped them down vigorously so that they were hanging uselessly from his trousers. Robert didn't want to seem idle, so he returned his attentions to her hat, intending to get the irritating item out of the way. His fingers fumbled in his haste to remove it, and Cora yelped as he accidently pricked the pin in the back of her neck.

"Watch what you're doing!" she hissed at him. "Or are you intending to make me bleed to death?"

"Well, stop wriggling and I might be able to!" he said hotly, throwing the hat to the ground triumphantly.

She opened her mouth to bite back at him, and he took it as another opportunity to kiss her again. Her skin was damp against his face, and he let his tongue flick over her lips, tasting the rain. Her fingers had moved to hook themselves in the waistband of his trousers, and his breath shuddered from him as he jerked. She seemed to like having that power over him, grinning devilishly, her fingers finding the button on his trousers with expert ease.

"Oh, God," Robert groaned as her fingers brushed against the dent in his shorts.

"Well, what do we have here, milord?" she asked him flirtatiously, letting her fingers brush over him again, getting some heated satisfaction out of having him submitting to her touch. It made her stomach twist with excitement to know that even now, after more than thirty years of marriage, she could still affect him as easily as if it was that blissful second year all over again. Slowly, biting her lip, she let his trousers fall to the floor, giving him time to kick them off. Then, when he settled again, she slowly began to work her fingers inside his shorts. Her fingers came into contact with the heated flesh of his thigh, and she stroked him there for a few moments, feeling the way that the muscles there rippled, watching, enraptured, as his head tilted backwards. Curiously, she continued to stroke him there gently, feeling the hardness beneath her palm. Robert's ragged breath was the only sound that could be heard in the darkness, his hands clutching onto her back as though she was the only thing keeping him anchored. Currents of pleasure ran through his body, making him shiver. He bit his lip hard as he felt himself twitch in his wife's grasp. He was quickly beginning to realise that he was coming in at a disadvantage because Cora already had him half-undressed, and she herself was still fully clothed. And, with her hand stroking him in such a way, he was fast losing his ability to do anything about it. The way that her fingers were flexing against him was sending streams of gratification jolting through his body, and his throat worked desperately to stop himself from groaning aloud.

"Why are you doing that?" Cora breathed when she saw the expression on his face. "There's no one here to hear you."

Her words and the husky quality of her voice had him stifling a grunt. It was true. They were here in this barn with no one else for miles around, no one else to know or care about what they were doing. And it was so very difficult to keep silent when Cora's hand was doing the things that it was doing…

Cora bit back a triumphant smirk when her husband submitted and let out a groan of appreciation. His head fell forward to rest against her shoulder, and she couldn't resist nudging his face so that he turned to look at her dazedly, and she let her lips travel teasingly over his face, touching her tongue to the raindrops that had collected there as he'd done to her earlier. When her mouth finally relented and found his, he kissed her eagerly, his breath hitching and his throat vibrating with the sound of smothered noises. Cora always knew exactly what to do to bring her husband pleasure – years of happy marriage had given her the knack – and she let her fingernails graze him gently as she let them travel back up his length. Heat seared from his loins, and she wrapped her hand fully around his length, gently pulling him forward and then pushing back, mimicking the action of their lovemaking with her hand. She breathed heavily in his ear as she worked, feeling his every tremble and twitch as she worked, feeling her own body beginning to respond more eagerly to his, anxious to answer the primitive call. Her spare hand, previously resting on his behind and kneading the skin there, began to travel up his back, feeling the ripple of his spine through his damp shirt, the flex of his shoulder blades the dampness of his hair, the coolness of his face, gently twining her fingers through his hair and using it as leverage to pull him gently away from her shoulder.

"Robert," she said softly.

His answer was a guttural moan as she squeezed him lightly. It was no longer enough to touch. She needed to feel her husband's hands on her too.

"Robert, I want you to touch me."

She had never been afraid of telling him what she wanted – it was her American nature, as she had so often teased him and, after so many years of marriage, it was impossible to feel shy about such matters. They knew each other too well for that. The words lingered as she paused in her ministrations, giving him the time he needed to process her words. His eyes were hot as they found hers, and she shivered in delight at the unspoken promises that she could read there. Wordlessly, his hands began to travel up her body, passed the curve of her waist, the swell of her hip. She let the breath shudder from her body in anticipation of what was to come, and his fingers gently began to hitch her skirts up her body. She gasped as his fingers caught the sensitive skin of her legs, but he did not stop until her dress was pooled at her waist with one hand. The other was busy slipping below the band of her undergarments. When his hand rested over her, they both groaned aloud at the sheer sensation; Robert because of the obvious heat that already greeted his fingertips, proof that he wouldn't need to work very hard at all to ensure that Cora was ready for him, and Cora because of how wonderful it felt to have her husband's fingers over such an intimate place. Slowly, Robert slipped them lower, encouraging her to widen her stance, giving himself better access to her. His fingers quested further in, and he gently began to trail his fingers over her, feeling the way that she responded to his touch. In a few moments, she was panting hard against him, as undone as she'd made him. She seemed to have forgotten that her fist was clamped tightly around his length, but Robert didn't mind. It was more important to concentrate on giving Cora the same pleasure that she had given him. He groaned triumphantly, still awed that he could use his expertise to make her quiver and moan, then slipped his fingers higher, searching earnestly for the bundle of nerves that always had her knees buckling underneath her. He found it secreted away, and let his fingers pass over it softly. Her grip around his length tightened, and he couldn't stop the reflexive thrust of his hips at the feeling.

"Cora, my darling," he said hoarsely, but that was as far as he got before her mouth was back over his feverishly, tongue plundering his mouth, hand finally beginning to move over him again. He continued stroking her quickly, not wanting to lose his senses again, and soon they were both panting and moaning and trembling, their knees threatening to buckle as they stroked each other.

Cora was almost in heaven. The pass of her husband's fingers over that sweet spot was driving her to distraction. There was an aching fire in her belly that simmered tantalisingly, and she could feel it flowing, then ebbing teasingly through every pore of her body, leaving her desperate for more. She knew that even though he'd not been touching her for very long at all, she was still creeping perilously close to the edge. This was confirmed when she felt herself beginning to pulse warningly, and she snaked her spare hand down to his wrist, pausing him in his actions.

"What's wrong?" he asked her quietly. "Cora, are you all right?"

"Yes," she breathed. "But I need you now, Robert."

His eyes darkened at her words, and he withdrew his hand from her, making her gasp at the loss of contact. She did the same, and they stood there together in the darkness, exhaling hard through their mouths.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked her softly. Their surroundings weren't very pleasing to look at. He briefly considered taking her in his arms and pushing her up against the side of the barn, but he quickly dismissed the idea. While it wouldn't have been impossible when he was younger (and indeed it hadn't been; he had many fond memories of himself and Cora in that way), it was out of the question now. He hated even thinking it, but he was getting on in year's now, and he wasn't sure that he'd be able to support Cora's weight without dropping her to the floor. The only other place that he could contemplate was one of the odd pieces of machinery, but they could be covered with oil, for all he knew.

Cora was, as usual, the one to solve the problem. Taking his hand, she began to drag him down to the ground.

"Cora, you can't be serious," said Robert. "Here, on this grotty floor?"

"Why not?" she countered. "It's new. I can't say I've ever made love with you on a bed of straw before."

"I'm not entirely sure it's just straw," he muttered, eyeing it dubiously.

Cora rolled her eyes, then brushed her hand deliberately lower. "If you don't feel up to it…"

"Of course I feel up to it!" he said at once, and she had to bite her lip to keep her grin in check. Robert was so easy to defeat.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

He took the challenge in her voice and threw himself down over her, bringing his hands to her hair, his legs either side of hers and trapping her beneath him. She leaned up and captured his mouth hotly, letting her tongue slide right inside, her hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt. Robert took the initiative to push Cora's skirts back up, then used one hand to painstakingly tug her undergarments down passed her knees, cursing when they twisted at the crook of her knees. She laughed at his boyish frustration, gently pushing him up.

"Allow me," she purred, wriggling the rest of the way out of them before discarding them triumphantly to one side. Robert didn't have time to ogle at her for more than a moment before she was pushing him fully onto his back, moving up to straddle him.

"Cora…" he grunted.

"I know," she soothed him. "Let me."

He couldn't protest as she shifted her body and finally sheathed him within herself. Their sounds of mutual pleasure harmonised gently as Cora bent down to kiss him, bracing herself against his chest, beginning to find a rhythm that was all theirs. Robert brought his hands up to rest against her waist, letting his mouth move over hers hungrily. Her dress was still damp, and his fingers sank into the wet material, dampening his own fingers. She groaned when he moved his hand to trail down the backs of her legs, making her shiver at the cold wetness, her eyes burning his.

Under normal circumstances, Cora loved to be naked against her husband, to feel every inch of his skin pressed against hers, from the strong breadth of his chest to the hairs on his legs. Tonight, however, she was in too much of a frenzy to truly care, grinding herself down on top of him desperately. Robert had shifted his mouth to her collar bone, sucking gently at the delicate jut, careful to use enough pressure to have her writhing above him, but still not enough to leave a mark. The last thing he needed was for his mama to start asking questions. Cora's fingernails bit into his shoulders. The pleasure was building within her, like the swell of a song before its final crashing notes. She could feel the fire in her veins growing hotter by the second. It was burning her, threatening to set her completely alight. Sweat was beginning to bead at her temples, mixing with the droplets of rain, and she let her teeth sink gently into her lip as she worked both herself and her husband closer to their climaxes. The friction within her was incredible, the pulsing of her husband's length against her indescribable. In such a position, Robert could be taken so deep inside her, and she felt him hitting that sweet spot more easily with every move that she made. Her noises of pleasure were coming in a near constant stream now, high-pitched little sounds that were a contrast to Robert's almost animalistic grunts.

Robert could feel himself tightening inside his wife, a very sure sign that he was close to the edge. The blaze in his belly was spreading, threatening to take over every nerve and every limb, to have him crying out and jerking beneath her. He couldn't let that happen, couldn't take his pleasure before she had taken hers. With trembling hands, he lifted her skirts up, peering down to where they were joined. Gently, he moved his hand towards her, seeking out that place that would have her crying out too. Cora trembled when he touched her there, and he caressed her softly, listening to the way that her cries rose in pitch. Cora's movements had become more ragged, and that only spurred on his own desire. The fire was so hot in his veins now. He couldn't bear it. Desperately, he pressed his fingers against her harder.

Cora's limbs jerked. The fire had spread from her stomach, touching her toes and the tips of her ears. Goosebumps erupted on her skin. The feeling in her stomach swelled to a crescendo. And then she was crying out, her back arching, pressing herself as far into her husband's body as she could, heated wetness flooding his fingertips. The fire spread from her into him, heating him, making him explode with utter gratification, his groans loud as he grasped desperately at Cora's sides. For a suspended moment, they held each other tightly, and then Cora was collapsing down on top of Robert, panting hard, sweating and shivering as they pressed against each other. Robert cradled her gently, pressing soft kisses against her cheeks. For several minutes afterwards, they simply lay there in silence, listening to the beats of their hearts and their breaths as they slowed down gradually.

"I'm sorry," she murmured into the darkness at last, letting her head rest gently against his neck.

"I'm sorry too," he said equally quietly, shifting to press a soft kiss into her hair. "I've been insufferable this evening."

"You were just trying to make this day special. I can't blame you for that."

"Well, it didn't turn out very special."

"I got to spend it with you, didn't I?"

Robert felt his heart swelling at her honest words, and blinked quickly as he felt something suspiciously like tears filling his eyes. He rolled onto his side, dislodging her from him, and shifted so that he was hovering above her. She tilted her head to one side in confusion, and he bent down to press a lingering kiss against her mouth.

"I love you," he said when they parted, resting his forehead against hers.

"I know," she replied. "I love you too."

They stayed like that for several moments, before Robert pulled away from her. Cora sat up on her elbows as she watched him beginning to crawl across the straw, searching blindly for something.

"What on earth are you doing?" she asked with a giggle, sitting up more fully.

"I'm looking for my jacket," he answered. "I know it was round here – ah!"

She watched as he sat himself up on his knees and began to rifle through the pockets. It was too dark for her to make him out clearly, so she waited patiently for an explanation. At last he found whatever it was that he was looking for, and made his way back to her side.

"Here," he said, taking her hand and opening it so that her palm lay open to the world. Gently, he placed the box that he'd fetched there.

"What's this?" Cora asked in surprise. "Robert, we've already exchanged gifts today!"

"I know," he said. "But I saw this in the village and I just had to buy it for you."

Carefully, fingers trembling, Cora pulled back the box's lid. She gasped when she saw the beautiful ring nestled inside. Although it was dark and she couldn't see it properly, she knew that it would be just perfect.

"It's a promise ring," Robert said nervously. "I know that they're supposed to be given before an engagement, but I thought that yours could mean something more. I want it to be a reminder, for the both of us. I want you to remember when you look at it that I love you so much, and I'll do everything within my power to make you happy. And I want to see it and remember that no one could ever be better for me than you. I want it to symbolise all of my promises to you."

"Oh, Robert," said Cora. He could hear the tears in her voice as she launched herself at him, even before he felt the wetness against his neck. "This is the most wonderful gift."

"I'm glad you like it," he said softly, stroking her back. "But please don't cry."

She sniffed, then laughed. "Is it too American for you?"

He chuckled too, and nuzzled against her hair for a moment. "Not at all. I just don't like to see your tears."

And then the moment was ruined by the calling of a voice.

"Milord? Milady? Are you there?"

It was Pratt.

Robert and Cora broke apart at once, sharing simultaneous glances of horror. Even if they weren't fully unclothed, they were still in a state of undress. They let go of each other at once and frenziedly began to try to make themselves look presentable in the two minutes they had before Pratt came unsuspectingly upon them. Cora had an easier task, because all she needed to do was pull on her undergarments, push down her dress and jam her hat onto her head as best she could. Robert, however, was struggling to pull on his shorts and his trousers in his panic, and his dinner jacket was still where he'd left it. Cora retrieved it for him, and told him to concentrate on putting that on while she sorted his trousers. He abandoned the task meekly, feeling a little humiliated that he needed his wife's help to dress him again, and then pushed his hat down on his head.

When Pratt arrived at the door barely a minute later, he found Lord and Lady Grantham the very picture of decorum, standing together in the middle of the barn.

"I've managed to find a mechanic who's been able to patch the motor back up," he informed them. "It should get us back to Downton without any more problems."

"That's wonderful!" Cora exclaimed. "Although this barn has proven quite adequate…" Here she exchanged a meaningful look with her husband, biting back a grin, "…I wasn't really relishing the prospect of spending all night here."

"Well, if we start back now, milady," said Pratt, "then we'll be back at Downton at a reasonable hour for you to retire as normal."

"Very well," said Robert. "Lead the way, Pratt."

The chauffeur turned and made his way out of the barn's door again, and Robert and Cora followed him closely. The rain had thankfully stopped now, and the moon was peeping through the clouds, lighting the world with a silvery glow. They squelched their way through the mud, back to where the motor was.

"It's a pity about you missing the meal, milord," said Pratt.

Robert exchanged a grin with his wife. "Oh, I'm not sure about that. Perhaps things worked out for the best this way."

Pratt frowned, obviously not understanding, but remained silent until they reached the side of the motor.

"I said we'd send the money to the mechanic first thing in the morning," said Pratt as he began to open the back door for the couple. "Is that all right, milord?"

"Perfectly," said Robert, beginning to climb into the backseat. Then, noticing Pratt's face, he asked, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing, milord," Pratt said quickly.

"It's clearly not nothing. So what is it?"

The chauffeur looked mildly embarrassed. "It's just…you've got straw in your hair, milord."

"Straw?" Robert looked horrified.

"I can't imagine how that got there, dear," said Cora. She was clearly doing her best to hold back her laughter.

"Neither can I," muttered Robert, feeling the tips of his ears flushing.

"And…" Pratt continued tentatively. "…I think you've got something on your dinner jacket, milord."

"Like what?" he cried, looking even more horrified.

"It looks like…it looks like horse…" Pratt tailed off, but he didn't need to say the words for both Robert and Cora to know exactly what he was going to say. This time Cora couldn't hold back her peals of laughter at Robert's face expression.

"Next time, you'd better have a better look at where you're sitting," she teased as she climbed up beside him.

"Very funny," he said sourly.

Pratt closed the door and began making his way around to his own car door. Cora took the opportunity to take her husband's hand within her own.

"Never mind," she said. "I like to think that a ruined dinner jacket is a worthy exchange for the night."

"You're not the one sitting here knowing that you've got horses' excrement on your back!" Robert grumbled.

Cora hid her smirk against his shoulder. "Well, you could always request a bath when you get back home. And I can scrub your back, if you'd like."

Robert's answering grin let her know that he had more than a back scrubbing on his mind for when they returned home. Her insides twisted pleasantly. She couldn't wait. Their adventure in the hay had been exciting, but there was something indescribable about knowing that they had a soft, inviting bed waiting for them at home that made her tingle.

"Pratt?" she said when the chauffeur had backed the car up and got them headed in the right direction.

"Yes, milady?"

"How fast do you think this thing can go?"


End file.
